


Not Without You

by idontevenlogic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: God!Kuroo, Is this considered necromancy?, M/M, Magic, Resurrection, Sorcerer!Oikawa, Temporary Character Death, death cannot stop true love, knight!Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 00:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13963881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenlogic/pseuds/idontevenlogic
Summary: “I love him more than the sea loves the shore, more than flowers love sunlight, more than the moon loves the stars, more than any tale written in any book."





	Not Without You

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up late at night with this idea and then this happened

Magics weren’t all black and white, morally speaking. Magics were something you felt and lived for, not just to be used for gain, benefit, or malice. There’s all sorts of reasons behind spell casting. For instance, to heal. Healing magics felt like a refreshing dip in a cool, lazy river, like finding comfort in sitting by a fire through a chilling night. It felt like finding comfort in hard times. However, the darker magics, like the ones Oikawa Tooru were casting now, felt like being plunged into a fiery pit, like jumping off a cliff and knowing that there was no way he would survive the fall. It wasn’t like the healing magics he was used to at all. It wasn’t like escaping the bad to find the good. These magics, as new to him as the day he had first learned of the spells, were like abandoning all that was good in him and fleeing towards what would ruin him.

But he needed to do this. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t, at least, try. He couldn’t live without his pillar of strength, Iwaizumi Hajime, his Iwa-chan, and he was doing his best to make sure that he didn’t have to live without him.

Flashes of pain surged through his entire being. Electricity paralyzed his legs and fire burned his hands. He was screaming, raw and red, as salted liquid ran down from his eyes, down his cheeks. They onto the still, shining, armored body before him as he chanted and chanted like a stutter. The magics pulsed through him like a river in a storm, torrential and drowning. He was speaking so quickly that he wasn’t leaving himself time to catch a breath, pouring everything he had into making sure Iwaizumi would breathe again.

It hurt! It burned! But he could endure it because it was nothing compared to pain he’d felt when he’d seen a knight come up from behind Iwaizumi and stab him! This pain was nothing if it meant that he could have his best friend, his first and only love, back in this war torn world. He would endure whatever hells were thrown at him if it meant that Iwaizumi could wrap his arms around Oikawa, call him stupid, but be alive. Oikawa would kiss the damned knight when he woke up. There were so many things left to tell Iwaizumi and their lives together couldn’t just come to a stop like this!

 _Bring him back_! It was all that mattered, the only thought that consumed his tunnel vision mind as he tried to revive whatever life was left in his best friend.

“You, the righteous, who have taken. I beg you to bring back what is mine. From Heavens or Hells, grant his soul safe passage to return his own vessel, to return to me. I sacrifice myself, my magics, and whatever else there is to give. I give it all for the sake of his return.”

A black smoke billowed out from around them, encasing them in a wind-spun funnel, like a tornados and the air became thinner, almost unbreathable. Some strands of the smoke reached out like tendrils and stroked his face and Iwaizumi’s. Oikawa crushed the urge to reach out and swipe the smoke away because _nothing touched Iwaizumi except Oikawa_ , especially now, but this was all a part of the dark spell so he would have to close his eyes to put the ideas of action out of his mind and continue his part in this deal.

“I, Oikawa Tooru, servant of Hecate and her magics, so promise to forever pledge my fate and allegiance to whatever god grants me temporary dominion. Whatever the price may be, I shall pay it. Just, please, let me bring him back.” The words flowed out of him like water poured forth from a pitcher. They were bitter and metallic on his tongue, leaving a horrible taste in his mouth, coppery like blood. It made him want to throw up and he could the terrible coil in his stomach, but he pushed down his disgust with his unmatched determination and continued, even as he felt his voice begin to leave due to hours upon hours of casting battle spells.

“Oikawa! It won’t work! He’s gone! Let’s take him home and give him the burial he deserves!” Somewhere in the distance, he heard Matsukawa call out to him, but the voice sounded years away.

Oikawa gazed down at Iwaizumi. He kneeled down beside him and held the honorable knight’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. He stared into the eyes that had once been such a brilliant, forest green that had held pride and strength, but seemed so empty now. . . Another choked sob wracked through Oikawa’s body, shaking him entirely to his core. They said the worthy died with a look of peace, but Iwaizumi looked far from content in death. The shock of pain and recognizing the end was nigh still clear on his features.

Oikawa gently pressed with his fingers to soothe out the crease on his Iwa-chan’s brow, the one he would always tease Iwaizumi about ( _“You’ll get old man wrinkles if you frown too much, Iwa-chan! But that’s okay because Iwa-chan will always be the most handsome in my eyes!”_ ). He let out another scream at realization of how cold Iwaizumi’s skin was growing, slowly but surely, like a cold front overcoming his body. His once rich, tawny skin was beginning to pale as well.

The mage slammed his balled fists against the plated armor and screamed once again, a slew of curse words and spells, cursed every god he could think of off the top of his head, cursed them for stealing the most important person in his whole life away from him. His useless screams dissolved into disheartened sobs, into streams of tears flooding down his face. The magics inside him were still at play, dancing and roaring like lions in his veins, making him feel even more alive, but reminded him once again that Iwaizumi wasn’t, and that the magics weren’t doing anything to help him.

He’d tried every dark spell he knew, every healing spell . . . There was just one last option, and he would take it if it meant bringing Iwaizumi back.

“Please, please!” Oikawa sobbed. He made quick work of removing the plated armor off the knight’s limp body, and cut open the red stained shirt underneath with a swipe of his ceremonial knife. “Take my life into servitude, kill me, make me a keeper of the dead, anything, but give him back to this world! He’s too good to die this soon! Please!”

Oikawa took the knife in his hand and dipped into the tougher skin of his forearm. Blood gushed forth from his careless cutting and he smeared his hand over it, like his fingers were a pen dipping into crimson ink. It was the last option, his only option. An offering blood to summon a god to perform a necromancy spell to bring back the dead. Oikawa would gladly offer every pint of his blood to make this spell work. It needed to be perfect. Luckily, Oikawa had been told that he had a knack for perfection all his life, so he begged fate to not let him down now.

His hands, shaking like leafs in a violent wind, traced the necessary circles and symbols of the spell on Iwaizumi’s chest and across his own face to show they were connected. The shining, ruby sigils grinned up at him, as if they were his own doubts taunting him that he could never complete such a powerful spell, that he wasn’t good enough to bring Iwaizumi back.

“I love him,” Oikawa whispered harshly, through gritted teeth. His blooded fingers closed Iwaizumi’s eyes, trailing red after and onto the eyelid. “I love him more than the sea loves the shore, more than flowers love sunlight, more than the moon loves the stars, more than any tale written in any book. I vow myself to the world of Kuroo Tetsurou, Keeper of the Departed, that if my wish is granted, that I will serve faithfully and without question. Just, please, give him back to me.”

“Oooh, I like you already,” a voice murmured, sly and cunning like a fox in his ear. Oikawa jerked back to find the very figure he’d just attempted to summon squatting just behind him, peering over to get a good look at the fallen knight. “Oikawa Tooru, finally. I’ve been wondering what it would take to make you one of my necromancers, and the answer is so simply: loyalty to a fault. You’d give up your life here, serve as one of my own, to give Iwaizumi Hajime back his life?”

“So you did hear me?” Oikawa asked, a very crushable feeling of hope rising in his chest. A relief flooded his body and his muscles relaxed at the knowledge that the spell had worked. It worked and now he had a solid chance at bringing Iwaizumi back.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” the god shrugged.

“Then yes, yes. If you’ll allow me to complete the spell, I’ll become one of your necromancers. I’ll serve you faithfully, as long as you grant me the promise to bring his soul back.”

“I can see how desperate you are,” Kuroo replied, nodding his head back and forth. “I may not be one of the more favored gods, but luckily for you, I have always been a kind god.” He pressed a hand to where his godly heart lay, a sarcastic smirk dancing on his lips. “I promise to allow you to complete the spell if both you and Iwaizumi Hajime follow my orders here on Earth.”

“Both of us?”

“Of course. You have a bond that can never be broken. I would be a fool if I let such potential go to waste.”

“Fine,” Oikawa promised. ”If it means I can have him back, then anything you want.”

“If you’re sure—”

“He didn’t want to die! I didn’t want him to die! We had so much life left to live together! I was going to tell him that I—”

Kuroo raised a hand to silence him. “I’m not questioning you. I can feel his soul fighting back to return. He keeps calling out for you like you do for him.” He extended his hand, nimble, long fingers, and smirked, not maliciously but calculating and somehow encouraging. “Take him back from me, Oikawa Tooru, and I will make you my head priest and Iwaizumi, I will make him my paladin. He will never die again, but be an Immortal walking amongst those with limited lives. You will never again experience a pain like this again. I warn you, though, in bringing him back, you will be connected more than ever. He will know your feelings for him when he wakes up.”

Oikawa wasn’t even listening anymore, as he wasted no time in shaking the hand of the Keeper of the Death. As soon as he did so, the magics inside him exploded into an all-consuming wildfire. He screamed, bloodcurdling and deafening, but the hand around his held tight, and the voice of Kuroo encouraged him, saying that he was indeed strong enough and worthy of being the head sorcerer for a god. Blackness, lightless and a void, consumed his vision, and he tilted his head up, the magics surging out of him like a geyser. Oikawa had never consumed and exuded so much magics all at once before, and it was exhilarating as it was frightening.

Would he feel like this all the time after such a spell?

Oikawa felt Kuroo reposition him so he was hovering over Iwaizumi. He would later than Kuroo for returning him to his anchor. He screamed words in languages he didn’t know, didn’t understand, his one voice growing to sounded like the masses in prayer, as many and as loud as an army’s. Abruptly, the words of the gods tumbled from his mouth, like lava from an erupting volcano, hot and burning until his tongue and lips were numb. Oikawa had never felt more powerful in his life, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was addicted to such powerful magics.

He lay his hands on Iwaizumi’s chest, the magics seeping into the corpse, and he was elated to find that the magics were compatible. They flowed into Iwaizumi, stirring up his frozen blood and resurrecting his stilled heart. In the darkness, before his eyes, lay a soft blue light, and in his mind, he reached out to take it. It was Iwaizumi’s soul and life, honest and true, warm and rough all at once. It made his smile. It felt like a heartbeat in his hands. He pulled it forward, out of the dark and into the light, then pushed it into Iwaizumi’s body.

Instead of the cold darkness that had taken over his vision, he now felt the pulsing soul light up everything around him. He blinked his eyes and found that he could see again. He welcomed the sight of the blue sky above him, seeing now that clouds were beginning to roll in, dark and grey. He sat back and stared at Iwaizumi, and a small gasp of delight escaped him as the wonderful color of life returned to his best friend’s cheeks, the warmth flooding through his systems.

Kuroo stood beside them, arms crossed. Sorcerers similar to Oikawa were standing back with rapt interest, all standing on the destroyed, grey, hard won battlefield. Two sorcerers in particular looked like they wanted to reach out towards Oikawa and Iwaizumi but thought better of it when they made eye contact with Kuroo. A strawberry blonde and one with big eyebrows. _Must be friends of theirs_ , Kuroo thought to himself indifferently.

Suddenly, Iwaizumi’s eyes shot open, a glistening forest of emeralds, and he sucked in a huge breath, arms flailing out in all directions like he was seizing. Oikawa took hold of him and pressed himself closer to the knight, whispering to him. Iwaizumi latched onto him with desperation, panting heavily, his lungs taking in new air and expelling the old, learning how to breath again. He felt grounded now, secure, and more importantly, alive. He recognized the smell of Oikawa, but this time his lavender and minty scent was mixed with ash and fire.

There had been a battle. Iwaizumi had fallen. Yet . . . here he was.

When Oikawa pulled away from the embrace he asked, “Are you okay? Do you feel any pain anywhere?” Impossibly brown eyes searched him, humble fingers latched onto the hem of his torn shirt.

Iwaizumi simply reached forward and traced Oikawa’s cheeks with the back of his knuckles, brushes of rough hands from years of training since they were younger. “There’s marks,” he whispered, almost horrified, “like tattoos. They’re marring you.”

Indeed, there were black swirls of symbols across Oikawa’s forehead like a makeshift crown, sharp letterings like thorns. _Death cannot break us apart._ Concentrating, Oikawa could see that a similar string of litters were appearing, circling around Iwaizumi’s neck like a collar. _Death has bound us together_. The sorcerer turned and glared at Kuroo who simply raised his hands and said, “You need to be marked as my servants somehow, don’t you?”

“Servants?” Iwaizumi questioned, attempting to sit upright. Pain seized his body and he fell back. Oikawa flittered over him, checking him over. The wounds had closed but he still must’ve felt the pain from being stabbed. “Oikawa, what is he talking about?”

Oikawa sighed, head hung low, worrying his bottom lip. “Iwa-chan, meet our new master, the Keeper of the Departed.” Iwaizumi gave him a leveled looked that turned into an uproarious bout of laughter. Oikawa thought about backing away, eyeing his best friend warily. He did not think that sort of news would warrant such a positive response. “Iwa-chan? Are you okay? Is he okay?” He turned to Kuroo who shrugged his shoulders, unhelpfully.

“You sold us into eternal slavery?” Iwaizumi asked, finally reaching for his sword.

“Not slavery, servitude,” Kuroo corrected, raising a finger. “I’m not an unfair god. The god of war, though, he keeps slaves and treats them terribly, like toys to be thrown out. No. I’ve made you, Iwaizumi Hajime, my paladin, a warrior that defends my head priest, who is now your Oikawa Tooru.”

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa, how as playing with his shaking fingers. His doe brown eyes were sunken in from the exertion of spell casting, and the black marks on his forehead were now permanently seared onto his skin like they had always been there. The two of them had sworn to protect each other through thick and thin ever since they were little. They had been selfish of each other, constantly. Iwaizumi was the only knight to stand by Oikawa’s side, and Oikawa let no other sorcerer heal Iwaizumi’s wounds or power him up before a battle. They had always been like that, and Iwaizumi had known they would always be like that. One day, he’d made a request that if he ever died in battle, that Oikawa would let him stay dead, but his best friend had never agreed. He had been glad that Oikawa hadn’t given an answer.

“Why did you do it, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I couldn’t go on without you,” Oikawa murmured, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone, of you being alone. You died before you could get the recognition you deserved from this kingdom. You died before I could tell you that I love you, that I can’t live without you.”

Iwaizumi trembled, his sword clunking back onto the soot covering the ground around them. Years. That’s how long he’d waited to hear those words from Oikawa. He inched forward, grunting as he moved closer to his best friend. The pain was still there, as if the sword was still lodged in his abdomen and dragging him down into death again. However, Oikawa was so close and he couldn’t stop. Oikawa didn’t stop him, probably expecting to be punched like he was whenever he was stupid, but Iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to do something like that now. He had lost Oikawa, that had been his final thoughts when the sword was plunged into his body.

He’d had realized how frail he was in those moments, and wondered how he had managed to keep Oikawa safe all these years.

He pulled Oikawa in for a stupidly affectionate embrace, digging his fingers into Oikawa’s soft hair and smiling into the cape he wore. “I missed you too,” he whispered. “Can’t live without you either.” Gently pressing his lips against Oikawa's, Iwaizumi swore he never felt more alive in all his life.


End file.
